


love away our loneliness

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Bucky Barnes, SOFTEST STEVE, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 16:06:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: steve's captain america (or was- whatever). the last thing he needs is a bodyguard.





	love away our loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> i luv steve rogers so much n i luv soft n sad steve rogers the most so pls enjoy this fic >:)

steve's tending to his injuries in a sullen silence when he hears knocking on his door. he ignores it at first, because he's really not in the mood to entertain anyone. he ends up caving in, though, when he realises the people behind the door aren't letting up anytime soon. 

 

"steve rogers?"

 

steve's greeted by two policemen who hold up their badges as soon as he opens the door. he crosses his arms and looks between the two of them warily. _ah, hell,_ he thinks as he steps back to let them through. he's positive he can hold his own against these two men if he has to.

 

"i'll cut to the chase," says the same police officer who called his name, a black man who offers him a friendly smile. "sorry for bothering you." his partner appears to be content just looking at the stack of unwashed dishes in Steve's sink. "security footage shows you were involved in the incident regarding an escaped convict from the raft."

 

"security footage showed where i live too, sir?" steve replies mildly, careful not to jostle the wound in his side as he leans against the kitchen countertop.

 

"call me sam," the police officer corrects. "mr rogers. and no. shield did." his gaze flickers from the patch of steve's shirt where it's stained with blood to steve's face. "you should be getting medical treatment. the wound looks deep-"

 

"i'll be fine," steve interrupts. “really. you were saying?" he's far from polite, but he's had a long day and his abdomen, still throbbing with pain, is a reminder that he needs rest. he'd gone running in the morning, met up with natasha in the afternoon, and was on the way home from grocery shopping when he encountered said convict. steve hated when his schedule was disrupted, and getting involved with a criminal who escaped from prison was the last thing on his to-do-list. he's retired; has been retired for almost a year now. he likes to pretend that he was never captain america.

 

"as you probably know, he's enhanced," sam says. “belongs to that group that's been causing trouble recently. his plans have failed thanks to you, but. he's known for holding grudges, so he's definitely going to be plotting revenge. for the mean time, until we get him back where he belongs, it'd be safer if you had someone watching you in case he, or others, come for you. rest assured, it won't be long with the team we have."

 

it takes steve a few seconds to process sam's words. "so you're saying i need a bodyguard." it comes out more of a question than a statement, steve's eyebrows raising in disbelief. 

 

"well, yes."

 

steve frowns, then laughs suddenly. "sorry," he says reflexly as both police officers turn to him, sam looking slightly offended. "except... i'm captain america. i can take care of myself perfectly fine. but i appreciate the sentiment."

 

sam looks at steve's stomach pointedly. "it'll heal. in a day," steve says defensively. "or less. i've had worse."

 

sam sighs, and steve gets the urge to laugh when he's reminded of all the people who've done the same when dealing with his stubbornness. "look, on our files, you're listed as steve rogers, not captain america. and steve rogers is an ordinary citizen that has to follow the same procedures that other ordinary citizens-"

 

"captain america is a role, not a person," steve interrupts, feeling a flash of irritation. "just because i no longer play the role of captain america doesn't mean i no longer have abilities that i am _so very_  capable of protecting myself with." 

 

"perfectly capable of protecting yourself, like you did today? what if you have to go against not one, but, say, four of them? ambushing you in your home, where you least expect it? captain america can take them on, sure, but you've clearly established that you're not captain america anymore."

 

steve hates being associated with captain america, so it's ironic how he desperately wishes he was in this situation. he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath.

 

he meets sam's gaze levelly. the steve rogers now is pathetic compared to the steve rogers then when it comes to winning an argument out of sheer persistence, and something tells him he won't be able to get out of this one easily.

 

"alright," steve relents. he's older, now, weary with age; he knows not to pick a fight he won't have the energy to win. sam's eyes widen and steve bites back a snort. _yeah,_ steve thinks, _can't_ _believe captain america is agreeing this easily either._  "okay."

 

when he thinks about it properly, having someone to protect him doesn't seem like the worst idea. retirement hasn't done much to improve his combat skills; he trains when stops by stark tower, but it mostly ends up with him on his back and nat, thighs around his neck, gloating. he's rusty, noticeably so, and a part of him revels in it. he's no longer all hard edges, tensing at every movement around the corner. he's softer, less alert; he wears oversized hoodies and loose pants everywhere and he paints with pastels during his free time instead of worrying about his next mission and the people he’ll have to kill. besides, company in any way, shape or form is good. it's something steve wants, but rarely has. it's hard enough to admit it. that he's constantly surrounded by a shroud of loneliness that'll stay for as long as captain america is remembered. 

 

"right," sam clears his throat, and his expression is much more open now that he's successfully won steve's cooperation. "as for how it works, it's pretty simple. there'll be someone assigned to be with you 24/7. he'll stay on the couch, unless you have a spare bedroom." 

 

 _it'll be like having the best friend he's never had,_ steve thinks, _except with no privacy and zero boundaries._ "i do have a spare bedroom."

 

sam nods. "noted. he'll be here shortly, unless you have something else planned for the day. and thank you, mr. rogers. i know this isn't the best situation to be in, but we're grateful you're accepting our help."

 

"that's fine," steve says. "i hope your team finds the guy." he drops his gaze to his sock-clad feet, face starting to turn red. he's forgotten how awkwardly intimate social interactions can be, now that he doesn't attend press conferences and interviews on a weekly basis, or get asked for photographs on the street where he's also forced to indulge in small talk. 

 

"we work with shield, who's the best we could ever work with," sam says confidently. if it's an attempt to reassure steve, it doesn't work; steve knows and has seen the things that happen behind closed doors. he doubts hydra's truly gone, but at least it doesn't concern him anymore. 

 

but it's not something he can say to sam, so he stays silent, following the policemen as they let themselves out of his house. 

 

"it was great meeting you," sam says sincerely, turning to regard steve as he reaches the bottom of the steps. something about sam's tone or expression or both causes steve to look away abashedly. sam nudges his companion, who mumbles something similar. "stay safe, mr. rogers. hope to see you again."

 

steve waits until they've walked down the paved pathway and disappeared around the corner to close the door. he lets his forehead thud against the wood and sighs. what has he gotten himself into, really. natasha's going to have a blast when she finds out.

 

*

 

it's been a while since steve's been in the guest room. he opens the window to air it out, changes the sheets and makes the bed. it's a foreign feeling, but not bad. now that he thinks about it, he's never had any guests stay over. it's funny, how his circle of friends have shrunk since he's stopped being captain america, instead of the opposite, with all the free time in the world.

 

he stops the train of thought before he ends up feeling sorry for himself. he doesn't have the right to, not when the only reason why he's reached a plateau in life is because he's a coward.

 

the knocks on his door come quicker than he expects. steve finishes up arranging his art supplies into a neat pile and decides to leave them on the table instead of bringing them into his room. there was a time where his art would've been used against him, but now it's the only part of him he's proud of.

 

he goes to answer the door, a lot more nervous than he should be, seeing how he's industriously rehearsed the "i can get by on my own" speech for the past hour or so if the person sent to babysit him turned out to be a bigot, which are really the only type of people steve can't pretend to get along with these days. he can already picture sam's disappointed face as he firmly refuses their help the second time, even though they've just met.

 

the man who's standing on his front porch has his hands in his pockets, eyes roaming the expanse of steve's garden. steve uses the opportunity to take him in: brown hair pulled into a bun, loose strands framing the curve of his face, shadowing the sharpness of his jaw; high cheekbones and bright grey eyes. he's shorter but stockier than steve, and he wears a skintight leather outfit that's oddly similar to the ones nat used to wear. the width of his chest causes steve's breath to catch.

 

as if on cue, the man turns his attention to steve, stepping forward with a smile that deepens the crowfeet by his eyes.

 

"james barnes," james introduces himself. "you must be steve rogers. nice to meet you."

 

steve can't seem to make eye contact with james. he blames it on his nerves, but he knows that isn't the only reason. he fixes his eyes on james's chin instead, and almost gets sidetracked by the discovery of his chin dimple and how adorable it looks. "yeah, that's me. uh, hi." he shakes james's hand and tries not to blush. "nice to meet you too. please come in."

 

james picks up the duffel bag on the ground next to him and follows steve into the house, stopping to take his shoes off. "thanks." 

 

"i guess i'll give you the house tour now. here's the kitchen and dining area. then the living room. further in is my room, the bathroom, and your room. there's only one bathroom so we'll have to share, sorry. you can go ahead and put your stuff in now if you want."

 

james does as told. steve stands around for a few seconds before he realises he's hovering and quickly retreats back into the living room. he settles on the couch, flicking the television on; there's nothing particular he wants to watch so he just flips through the channels aimlessly. god, he can't even see james but he already feels so. damn. awkward. steve starts to panic a little. what made him think he'd be fine having a stranger watch his every move every second in the comfort of his home where he spent most of the time doing  _nothing?_

 

"hey," james interrupts steve's internal struggle. "you alright?"

 

steve looks up, schools his startled expression, and tries to smile. it's not his fault it ends up being a grimace. he scoots over and pats the seat next to him so that james can join him on the couch. "yeah, just." steve shrugs self-depreciatingly. "don't really have much experience with this kind of thing. you'll have to forgive me if i'm not the most fun to be around."

 

james laughs, takes a seat next to him, crosses his legs. "don't worry, i have plenty of experience to make up for the lack of yours. you don't know how many assholes i've had to deal with. i don't know about fun, but you seem like you're definitely better than a shit ton of others, and that makes me so glad."

 

steve cracks a smile at that. "comes with the job, huh?"

 

james sighs. "you have no idea," he puts his hand on his chest and leans back dramatically.

 

"i really do," steve says.

 

james blinks. he cocks his head, which steve finds endearing. "ah, i totally forgot," he frowns. "it's hard to imagine you were captain america."

 

steve bites his lip. he can't help but be wary; he remembers the countless people who've shouted at his face and told him he didn't deserve to be captain america. "really? why's that?"

 

james shrugs. "it's hard to imagine captain america was even a person. the way you were portrayed was just so one-dimensional, y'know? superficial as hell. you were so untouchable. you'd sacrifice everything for the good of the world. your only goal was to achieve justice. you didn't make mistakes. and because you were so perfect there were so many unrealistic expectations and stereotypes about you, which isn't fair at all. i've seen the interviews and the questions they ask you. it's stupid. i dunno what the media was doing, fleshing captain america out to be some kind of perfect icon to convince people humanity isn't as fucked up as it is when you're clearly more human-" james coughs. he looks embarrassed; sheepish, even. "sorry. i rant a lot. you can probably tell."

 

"no," steve says, crescents in his palm from how tight he's clenched his fists. he has to take a deep breath to stop himself for reaching for james. it's been less than ten minutes since they've met, but he wants to trust this man so badly it hurts. "no. i'm glad you said that, james."

 

"bucky," james corrects. "you can call me bucky. it's my middle name. james was always too formal for me."

 

"okay, bucky," steve says softly, and they exchange small but pleased smiles. the knot of anxiety that's been sitting in the pit of steve's stomach loosens. he can do this. he thinks he can do anything, with the comfort of bucky's warmth by his side, and the hope unfurling in his chest that there're people in the world like bucky who know steve rogers was never what captain america was made out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> more to come! stay tuneddd
> 
> p.s. if you're only commenting because of my lack of caps, please don't. it's a personal preference. i'm lazy and autocorrect can't stop me. if it annoys you... sorry and move on


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